Torn
by Karen Jephson
Summary: Giles has to make a decision. What will he choose? Set after S6


They traversed through the woods at a slow canter, man and beast moving as one. The pale sunlight filtered through the trees, bathing them as they passed from shadow to shadow. Sweat glistened on the horse's brown coat; his breathing steady and only slightly labored. The man guided his mount gently with the reins in his hands; his jean clad thighs gripping against the roan's sides as they jumped over a small mound. His open raincoat, damp from an earlier shower, draped over his legs and the horse's back.  
  
Finally they cleared the forest, and neared the top of the small hill they'd been climbing. Once he reached the peak, Giles pulled the horse to a standstill and turned to look back toward the house he'd left a few hours earlier. Cloud moved quickly along the sky above him, blotting out a few patches of blue, and beginning to cover the sun on it's downward path. The breeze that had followed him on his journey up the hill changed direction and picked up speed. All things pointed to a coming storm. Giles knew he'd have to make a move soon if he didn't want to get caught in the rain, but he'd needed these few moments on his own.  
  
Sighing, he fastened a few of the buttons on his coat. Around him, the forest and green rolling hills were empty of all other life. Which proved that he was the only fool about this day. This was the England he'd missed for six years. Even the rain. The smell of water on the air, of that strange mixture of crushed grass and turned mud. Knowing that within a few miles he could go from this gentle countryside to marshlands so dangerous only fools tramped them, or to one of the biggest cities in the world. He'd sometimes thought that if he could find himself in the middle of the English countryside on a wet summer's day, he might never leave again.  
  
And yet, all he felt was homesickness. For endless summers, a sun so hot it was almost unbearable, and winters that could be survived without any additional heat. The smell of burned gasoline from all the vehicles on the road, of burning wood from a forest fire several miles away. Of driving his car just fifteen minutes from home to arrive in the middle of an arid desert, the only living being for miles around. But mostly homesickness for a bossy blonde who never listened to him and who reminded him of vanilla and a light white wine; a child who had inherited her sister's irreverence to his authority but who's own aroma was still one of innocence; a young man with more insecurities than himself, and who didn't recognize his own courage. He even missed a former vengeance demon who'd recently decided to return to her previous profession. Long after he'd had trouble remembering their faces, he could close his eyes and recognize the aroma of each. Xander smelt of freshly sawn wood, Anya of the herbs she handled in the shop. Tara had been as subtle as her character, and as natural. Her scent so elusive it had almost been tainted by the stronger smell of magic from her lover.  
  
One of those he shouldn't miss was only a few miles away, waiting for him to return. Yet he did. The Willow here in England with him wasn't the Willow he'd carried in his memory when he'd left Sunnydale. He wasn't sure if that Willow would ever be back, if she had even existed. And here he was expected to help someone who was almost a stranger find herself. How do you find somebody you don't know? How would they be able to find their way back after the previous summer?  
  
Giles sighed as he turned to the subject that had brought him here originally. He had a choice to make, one of the hardest of his life. Sunnydale was home now, and so much of him remained there. His family needed him. That was obvious after their actions of the previous year. And he knew he would be useful there. He wasn't the same man who'd left, not knowing if he'd destroyed the most important person in the world to him. He hadn't known his own capabilities, so much of himself as a person being subdued to serve Buffy. But he'd refound himself. Or perhaps, found the man he could be. Not the angry youth or the repressed frightened man. Not the Watcher who's life centered around one person. But a sum of all those and more. One who could be relied upon to give aid, and whose expertise was in demand in this country of his birth. They may not be his family, but there were those whose need of him were as great as Buffy's and the others, if not greater.  
  
But could he leave his family again? Could he walk away from them, and hope they'd learned from their past mistakes? Could he rely on them to grow up and start making the right decisions? If he returned what would they expect? The Giles of a year ago? That would never happen again. He was confident in himself now, and realized something he hadn't known before. He could survive without Buffy, or the others. Not just exist, but create a life for himself. But did he want to? At least it wasn't a decision he had to make in the very near future. He would not return to Sunnydale without Willow. And she'd proven that she was not ready for that journey home. Which was just as well for him. He wasn't free to go home, himself, just yet.  
  
A drop of water splashed against his nose. Giles looked up, realizing he'd left his return too late. Black cloud rolled together as it prepared to unleash its burden. Patting the horse's neck, he turned it toward a stretch of ground running beside the forest. They'd need to move quicker than on the journey up if they were to miss most of the downpour. Flicking on the reins in his hands as he pressed against the horse's flanks, Giles increased his speed to a gallop as they reached a well-worn path. The ride hadn't helped him to make a decision, but at least he knew he still had some time to wrestle with the conflict within him. 


End file.
